The Life of Charlotte Diaz

Chapter 2. A Walk Down Memory Lane

Edited by @Dragon_Shield

"Charlotte," I heard my grandmother croak. My eyes were closed, and she sounded close. I wanted to open my eyes, badly, but my left eye hurts too much for me to want to remotely move that side.

After the encounter yesterday, I had scurried home and as soon as I walked through the door, my grandmother had gasped in horror. It turns out, I had completely forgotten about the punch I received and a huge bruise formed during the time I was rushing to get home. My grandma had cancelled us going to the movies and insisted on taking care of me. She had been firing question after question, knowing I wasn't going to say anything. Instead, she relied on the shaking of my head yes or no. When she asked if a classmate had done it, I had no choice but to nod hesitantly. I knew I couldn't lie to her forever.

She was livid. She had stood upright and began pacing the living room; ranting on and on about how I should've told her sooner and gotten help. She was talking at such a fast pace that her breathing started to go irregular and I was afraid she might have had a heart attack or passed out from lack of oxygen.

But soon, I calmed her down and she eventually went to her bedroom, which was down the hall. A tense silence suffocated me, and I decided to go on my usual routine whenever I get home. I did my homework, made dinner for grandma and I, and then did the chores. I did that the entire weekend. She didn't speak to me and I tried my best to ignore her gaze when ever she came into the kitchen or living room. But she'd retreat back to her room soon after.  By the time I got under my bed Sunday night, it was nearly ten o'clock. I submitted to the darkness just a few minutes after closing my eyes.

A muffled groan sounded from my lips, getting lost in the softness of the pillow that I had placed over my head in annoyance at being woken.

"Charlotte," I heard her call again, this time a tad bit louder, yet it sounded close.

Sighing out loud, I slowly sit upright and blink my eyes rapidly. When my eyes adjust to the lighting surrounding my room, they land on a frowning grandmother. I yawn, stretching my arms out. Then, I look up to my doorway, my eyes scrunching up at my grandma, who has her arms crossed and a determined look in her eyes.

"You're not going to school." She stated.

At that, my eyes widened and I shot out of bed, almost toppling over my shoes in the process. I looked at her like she had lost her mind.

I needed to go to school. Of course, I didn't care for the people I would have to see at school, but I couldn't fall far behind or I'll never graduate and keep my 4.0 GPA. I need that to get into a good college and I would like my future to be a good one.

"You're not going to school today, Charlotte. You have a perfect attendance record. I'm sure the school wouldn't mind you missing one day. Besides, you'll get caught up with all of your work quickly. I'm sure of it. But you aren't going to school today. I already called and informed the school you were sick- even though you're not," she paused.

My throat tightened up and I balled my hands into my fist.

"I know you want to get into a good college and have a bright future, and yada yada yada," she rolled her eyes. "Charlie, honey, I know you want to get into a good college. I really do. But after yesterday, I know you deserve some sort of break. I can't stand the thought of you- my sweet, caring Charlotte- being treated like that in school. I know you're a teenager and that you're ignoring everything, but I want you to take a break. I want to know that you're safe for one day. I'm not going to to get into this, because I don't want to make this worse for you. I know how cruel kids can be these days and by telling the principle, it will more than likely raise more verbal and physical abuse towards. But I need to know, I need to be assured, they you are safe for at least one day." She finished. Those electric blue eyes of her's seemed to dim down from the usual spark that always gleamed in it. Instead, that gleam was replaced with a hollow look of regret.